When Trapped Within
by plenoptic
Summary: When the time-stop program goes haywire, Elita One is left stuck as a sparkling. As he cares for her, Optimus is shown a side of his beloved that he's never seen before, and is forced to confront some painful truths. RATING CHANGED TO M.
1. Stop That Time

**When Trapped Within**

_Plenoptic_

"**Optimus Prime" means something along the lines of "First and Best" in Latin :3 It's awesome.**

**I figured that since our mech commander has been a sparkling, it was our lovely femme commander's turn…**

**Think "The Search for Alpha Trion" when Optimus refers to "the last time". I kinda cut Elita's whole capture and rescue deal out of the G1 universe and plopped it into the war on Cybertron. It's convenient that way. Hey, another AU! XD**

* * *

He thought he recognized it.

Lying there on his back, staring up the nose of Megatron's fusion cannon, listening only to the malicious laughter and the sounds of battle around him, Optimus Prime thought he vaguely recognized the feeling of time changing, their strands of the continuum being severed from the rest of the universe. But it wasn't like the last time, not a complete freeze, a complete halt of all activity. On the contrary, nothing seemed to have slowed down at all. The battle still raged around them, though Megatron seemed…distracted.

Optimus focused, trying to pick out where the strange feeling was coming from. It _felt_ like Elita One's time-stop program. It was that same odd sensation of simply dropping out of the natural world, but it was distant. Like he was feeling someone else experience it.

The Autobot commander shuttered his optics (partially because he didn't want to stare at the fusion cannon anymore). Where was Elita? He was fairly sure that she'd followed him right before Megatron had manage to get him on the ground…but where had she gone? If she were still there, if he knew Elita at all, she'd be trying to help him…

"What the frag is that?" Megatron hissed, and Optimus opened his optics, turning his head to squint around at his surroundings. What could have possibly made Megatron hold his fire?

When he saw it, he froze. Utterly, more completely than even if the time-stop were working properly. His processor stopped processing, his spark stopped churning.

A sparkling.

It was a sparkling. A tiny, delicate looking little femme with rose armor. She was sitting on her aft, legs splayed out in front of her, bright blue optics blinking around. Her expression was stunned, confused. She patted her chest and released a soft squeak.

Optimus felt a pull on his spark.

She patted her chest again. Whatever she was calling to seemed to have not responded, for she took one look around her and promptly burst into tears.

He acted. Gathering his strength, strangely determined to protect the little creature, he lifted his legs and kicked Megatron in the knees, one hand lifting to knock the nose of his fusion cannon up into the air. The warlord snarled in pain, but by the time he'd gotten a hold of himself Optimus was behind him, and his fists came down upon Megatron's back.

Megatron crumpled, his spinal circuits searing, temporarily paralyzed. Optimus hadn't even paused to make sure his enemy fell. He sprinted in the opposite direction, optics focused intently on the tiny life. Achieving speeds he didn't think he could ever possibly reach in any other situation, Optimus stooped low and scooped the tiny bot into his arms as he ran past, tucking her securely against his chest and shielding her in his embrace.

He didn't know how long he ran, dodging cannon fire, leaping over fallen mechs, not once jostling the femme in his arms. His intakes were heaving by the time he found the remains of a destroyed outpost, and he ducked beneath the battered doorway and into the dark, quiet sanctuary.

Prime stood still for a time, panting, listening to the soft crying of the sparkling. Inhaling deeply, he sat down and cautiously opened his arms, allowing the miniature bot to tumble onto the ground. She immediately drew her knees to her chest, hiding her face in her arms. Optimus chuckled softly at her behavior, and she peeped one baby blue optic at him.

"Is the war scary?" he asked quietly, and she squeaked. "I know. I don't like it much either."

Deeming that he seemed nice enough, the femme lowered her arms, turning around to face him. She stretched her legs out in front of her and put her hands in her lap, blinking up at him curiously. Something about him felt sort of familiar…she squeaked, patting her chest.

"What were you doing out there, little one?" Optimus wondered, reaching out to her. She flinched away at first, scrutinizing the massive hand in front of her optics, before leaning in cautiously. Gently, slowly so as not to scare her, Optimus rubbed her helm. She blinked twice and then purred, nuzzling his palm. The touch felt familiar to both of them; Optimus couldn't deny the strange tingling in his neural net.

Thinking suddenly that he ought to contact Elita, to make sure that she was alright and to tell her about his find, he reached out over their sparkbond…

And the baby femme went ballistic.

She squealed, leaping free of his hand and scrambling over to him, dragging herself up and holding herself upright by holding onto his chest armor. A burst of sparkling talk was streaming from her vocalizer, bleeps and clicks and excited squeaks that made no sense to Optimus. He sat watching her as she calmed down. Patting her chest curiously, she looked up at him and released a sad little warble. Tentatively, he reached through his sparkbond again.

The femme relaxed, lifting her arms with a tiny squeak. Mystified, Optimus cautiously placed his hands underneath her armpits and lifted the femme up. She purred and reached forward, and he pulled her close, cradling her against his chest again. He sat in stunned silence as the femme nuzzled her face against his chestplates, releasing a soft, happy trill.

Finally finding his vocalizer, he blinked twice and looked down at her and placed one trembling hand on her back.

"Elita?" he whispered.

_---------------------------------------------------One joor earlier-------------------------------------------------------_

"_You have to let me come with you!"_

"_I don't have to do anything."_

"_You can't order me to stay here!"_

"_I am your commander, and you are to follow my orders."_

"_Frag that, you chauvinistic bastard! I'm as much a commander as you are!"_

_Optimus Prime released a low growl, turning to face his bonded mate. Elita One faced him squarely, planting her feet and crossing her arms over her chest. They'd argued about this far too many times, constantly conflicted over Elita's desire to be independent and Optimus's need to protect her. It seemed that they could never satisfy both of their sparks._

_There was a moment of silence between them, but then Elita's gaze faltered. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have called you that."_

_He arched an optic ridge. "You've called me worse. But you are forgiven, of course. I know you are frustrated."_

_She lowered her gaze. "That's an understatement."_

_Sighing, Prime moved forward, placing his hands on her waist and drawing her close. The battle mask that normally hid his features retracted, exposing his handsome face to his beloved. _

"_Elita," he whispered, nuzzling his foreplate to hers. "Look at me, sweetspark. Please."_

_She smiled faintly at the endearment, lifting her face up to his. She lifted her hand, running her fingers down his faceplates, watching as his optics shuttered at her touch. Moving closer, she tilted her head, pressing slightly trembling lips to his in a soft kiss. The new sparkbond between them fluttered, and he tightened his arms around her waist, smothering her in his embrace. _

_Their mouths separated even though they still held one another close. Optimus rubbed his cheekplates gently against hers to show his appreciation for her gestures; she wasn't good at being tender yet. That was more his forte. But she was learning, slowly, how to allow herself to become vulnerable around her mech. _

"_I almost lost you," he whispered, cradling her close to his physique. "When Starscream got his filthy hands on you, I almost lost you." He shuttered his optics tightly. They hadn't been bonded at the time; had she died, he would have been forced to live on in agony without her. At least if they had been bonded, he would have died quickly and joined her in the Matrix. But the thought of a long existence without Elita tortured his spark. _

_Shaking her head slightly, Elita placed her hands on his chest and pushed away from him, breaking the tenderness. Optimus sagged slightly, disappointed, but this was his femme, the partner he'd chosen. A femme who couldn't even open up her spark to the mech who held half of it within his own. _

"_Why did you bond with me if you were just going to push me away?" Optimus asked in a whisper, and she glared at him._

"_You can't cage me."_

"_I'm not trying to. I'm trying to keep you safe."_

"_You don't have to. I can take care of myself."_

_He lifted his optics, capturing her gaze. "I love you," he breathed, and she flinched as if he'd struck her._

"_We need to go," she whispered, even as he drew closer to her. She trembled when Optimus took her into his arms again, kissing her more passionately this time, delving his glossa into her mouth. _

_For a few astroseconds she accepted it. No mech had ever kissed her the way Optimus did, even before they'd bonded. She knew the mech adored her, he whispered his words of love into her audios every night as she drifted into recharge in his bed. But she'd begun to worry; she was bonded to Optimus, but what if he tired of her resistance, her aversion to affection? What if he…left her? Their sparks would always be connected, and eventually separation would kill them both, but who was to say he wouldn't take another femme as his lover and leave her behind? _

"_Again," she gasped, pulling her mouth from his. "Say it again."_

_He turned her face back to his, locking his gaze on hers. "I love you," he stated firmly. She trembled under his gaze; she felt like those ethereal blue optics could see right through her. She would give anything to love him the way he loved her. It was the same on the inside, she was sure, she'd never cared for anything or anyone as much as she cared for Optimus, but on the outside…she was neglecting him and she knew it._

"_We have to go," she said loudly, pulling away. "We're needed on the field."_

"_I need you here," he said softly, catching her hand. "Beloved, please."_

_She turned, and for a moment the look on his face nearly broke her spark. Hurt, betrayed, lonely…the emotions pulling on his faceplates, his optics, his spark, made her own ache. He was her bonded…she was supposed to make him happy…_

_Tears welled in her optics, and she pulled away again. This time, he did not reach for her._

"_We have to go," she said desperately, and she ran._

* * *

"Jetfire, please contact Alpha Trion immediately. Optimus, come with me, we'll take her to the medical bay."

The commander shuffled after his chief medic, hiding Elita in his arms. She was active for one her age, squirming about in his embrace and trying to peek out at the mechs passing by, all of whom were wondering what Optimus could possibly be hiding.

"Elita, stop," Optimus hissed, clamping his arms down. "I don't want to hurt you by accident, you need to sit still…"

She gave him a squawk of protest but settled down, peering out from between his arms to watch the red and white mech trooping along in front of them. He looked a little familiar, but not so much as the mech carrying her…

"Right there," Ratchet said stiffly, indicating a vacant table, and Optimus shut the door before cautiously setting the femme down on the shiny metal surface. She was upset immediately, whimpering and warbling and reaching up to him, tears shining in her optics.

"Ratch, is it alright if I hold her?" Optimus asked nervously as the little femme began to cry.

The medic glanced backwards at the little femme, who was now crying softly, tiny fingers opening and closing as she reached for the red and blue mech standing helplessly in front of her. "Yeah, go ahead," Ratchet said gruffly, and Optimus immediately scooped the sparkling into his arms. She settled down at once, cooing up at him and patting his chestplates.

"Remind me again what your theory is on this one?" Ratchet inquired, bending down to shine a bright light into the femme's optics. She squeaked and covered her face, releasing an irritated raspberry at him.

"I think it's Elita," Optimus repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. "And you must agree with me, or you wouldn't have sent for Alpha Trion?"

"Nice to have a second opinion, that's all," the medic muttered. "Well, besides her, um, size condition, she seems to be in good health. Has she been crying?"

"Only when I put her down," Optimus replied, snuggling the sparkling closer. Elita chirped and rubbed her face on his armor, eager for the contact. "She's so affectionate. It's a little…strange, considering her nature as an adult."

"Well, clearly she's not an adult anymore," Ratchet said smugly. "I don't know how, but she's not. Without an adult's processor to inhibit her, she's just acting on her spark. I had an old mentor who said that if sparks could talk, they'd sound a lot like sparklings."

Optimus blinked and then looked down at Elita, who had curled herself into a ball and was drifting into recharge. "Acting on her spark…"

Ratchet smiled slightly and moved into his office, leaving Optimus alone with his sparkmate and his own troubled thoughts. There really wasn't much for him to do now that Elita was asleep, so he rocked the sparkling nervously, watching the chronometer, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the mech who would hopefully give him answers.

Said mech came exactly one half joor later, cheerily entering the medical bay with a haggard Jetfire tromping along behind him.

"Impossible to find the guy," Jetfire muttered irritably when Ratchet raised an optic ridge at him, clearly inquiring about the length of his absence. "He has like five bases, Ratch, I'm not even kidding…"

Optimus smiled at the white shuttle. Jetfire's grumpy moods never lasted long. "Thank you for your hard work, Jetfire, you are dismissed."

The mech cocked his head slightly, blinking at the sparkling. "Um, Optimus…is that…?"

"Don't tell anyone," Ratchet growled, and the shuttle jumped slightly.

"Well, I wasn't _planning_ on it," Jetfire grumped. "Touchy much?"

"You're dismissed, Jetfire," Optimus repeated, a little more loudly, and this time the mech left pointedly, clearly eager to get away from the medic with the fantastic aim.

"Now, then," Alpha Trion said brightly, moving forward and reaching to pick up Elita, but Optimus clutched the little femme a bit tighter to his chest.

"She cries if I'm not holding her," he said apologetically in response to Trion's confused expression.

Trion shrugged, not once losing his happy demeanor. "Well, that's not a problem. And how are you, Elita, dear?"

The femme blinked open one optic, grunted at him, and then nuzzled more into Optimus's armor, trying to go back into recharge.

"Her energy reserves are low," Trion noted, nodding slightly. "I'm not surprised. Optimus, did you notice anything odd right before you saw the sparkling?"

_Besides the fact that she __**was**__ the sparkling? _Optimus nodded. "Right before…I felt…I could have sworn I felt the time-stop activating."

Trion blinked in surprise. "Really? Well, that _is_ interesting." He rubbed the sparkling's helm appreciatively. "She is one amazing little femme, is she not? Do you by chance know how her energy reserves were looking before the battle?"

Optimus frowned, thinking. "She'd been working overtime…I don't think she'd recharged for several joors. She seemed irritable, as well. And I'm positive she hadn't had any energon, we usually go together…"

The elderly mech listened intently, watching the sleeping child, a frown beginning to tug at his mouthplates. "The time-stop…" he began, and Optimus and Ratchet gave him their full attention, "is really more of a virus than a program. It is non-transferable, of course, through interface. It is designed to adapt to any system it meets--in this case, Elita's. But while most viruses react to stimulation in the processor, the time-stop reacts to stimulation in the spark."

"Of the spark?" Optimus repeated, and Trion nodded.

"Yes. For instance, when what she wants most in the universe is to save someone she cares for--say, Optimus--then the time-stop will react to that and do whatever it can to make said scenario come to pass."

"That doesn't explain her current--er, predicament," Optimus cut in, but Trion waved him off.

"Patience, Optimus, patience. It won't make any sense if I don't give you some background information first. So, I assume you were in a spot of trouble when her program activated?"

"Megatron had a gun to my head."

"I see. Then…I believe I am correct in assuming that the time-stop program has mutated."

"…It _what_?" Ratchet said in disbelief. "But…no, that's not…it's not possible…"

"Ratchet, my dear mech, the time-stop program is far more advanced than anything modern science can even begin to comprehend," Trion said quietly, watching the sleeping sparkling in Optimus's arms. "It had a mind of its own. It grows and evolves based on whatever information it can find within Elita. When I created it, it firmly believed that all time could do was move forward and stop, for that was all I taught it. But as Elita and the program, consequently, grew, it began to learn more. It learned that time can also rewind and be sped up, paused and replayed."

"But time _can't_ be rewound," Optimus said almost desperately.

"Optimus, you hold the proof in your very arms!" Trion cried, somewhat exasperated. "The time-stop program still knows it has a task, and when Elita's spark assigned it a task, it did what it had to do to complete it! She was low on energy, so it rewound to draw energy from another period of time! This of course required energy in and of itself, so the amount of life force needed to utilize the program was doubled…and then it simply didn't have the power to move Elita back into the correct time."

"But it didn't _work_," Prime pointed out helplessly. "Time didn't stop!"

"You said you felt the program working?"

"Yes, but distantly! Then I looked over and there…there she was! That was all there was to it, time didn't halt for even a--" Optimus caught himself, and his optics narrowed. No. No, that wasn't true. Megatron had seemed distracted, for just a moment, but maybe…maybe he'd been frozen? And Optimus had been able to throw him off and run before the mech could shoot…

"Maybe…" Optimus hesitated, trying to gather his thoughts. "Maybe…it just wasn't as broad a range. Maybe she couldn't cast it as far as last time. I think it must have stopped, but it was erratic, a few astroseconds here and there."

Trion nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, that makes sense, more or less. As it traveled backwards, the program probably activated where it could. It is an advanced piece of technology, but it is only technology nonetheless. Its sole purpose was to stop time, it couldn't rationalize what it was doing."

"But why wasn't I affected?" Optimus questioned, hoisting Elita little higher up his chest. "Like last time?"

"You and Elita are bonded now," Trion said simply. "I would imagine that you are now as immune to its effects as she is."

"…Oh."

A few moments of stunned silence passed as the trio tried to make sense of the situation. Ratchet muttered something about high grade and went into his office, returning a breem later with several cubes. Optimus rocked Elita, watching his beloved little femme, anxiety twisting up his spark.

"How do we put her right again?" he asked softly, and Trion sighed.

"The program is self-correcting," the scientist said quietly, rubbing his foreplate. "It will probably conclude that Elita's time displacement is incorrect and bring her back up to speed. She will gain memories along the way."

"But she'll grow _faster_ than a normal sparkling, right?" Ratchet cut in, a note of panic in his voice. "We can't wait a few thousand vorns to have a mature commander again!"

Alpha Trion, Optimus thought, looked incredibly tired. He blinked and sighed. "I…do not know, Ratchet. I certainly hope she will mature quickly, but really…only time will tell."

* * *

**Hm, what are those things I should be studying for...? Oh yeah, semester exams...XD**


	2. Hello

**I liked the idea for this story so much that I gave it its own document instead of throwing it in with the massive Oneshots doc on my computer. Seriously, it's over three hundred pages of oneshots I've never bothered to finish. Should be couple chapters of TNS in there, too…XD**

**So I've started using songs for the chapter titles. "Stop That Time" is by Nightcore. "Hello" is by Evanescence.**

**Please enjoy, please review--I could use an ego boost XD**

_------------------------------------------------------Dawn-------------------------------------------------------------_

It was quiet. Warm. Spacious, with little to inhibit her as she tossed and turned, dreaming of…whatever sparklings dreamed of. Optimus lay beside her, propped up on one arm. His helm was aching, optic shutters heavy with fatigue. He'd been desperately tired after the day's events, but had been too afraid of accidentally crushing the sparkling to let himself sleep beside her. Primus, he worried about hurting her when she was an adult--now she was maybe a sixteenth that size and his anxiety was about a hundred times worse.

Elita One yawned, rolling over onto her back. One sparkling fist whacked his noseplates on the way over. Prime smiled, watching her settle back into recharge. One foot twitched, a hand opened then clenched again. Optimus prodded her fist gently, and almost immediately it opened to latch onto his finger. He didn't attempt to pull away; Bumblebee had often grasped his guardian's fingers when he slept. Something to hold on to.

A soft wave of affection passed through Optimus's spark, and he leant down to brush his mouthplates across the sparkling's foreplate. She'd been reaching to him throughout the night, sometimes seeking comfort, sometimes sending him little snatches of her dreams. He wondered if all sparklings did that to their parents. He'd helped to raise Bumblebee, but they weren't connected by spark; Prime had never truly known a sparkling's love.

"…What am I supposed to feed you?" he wondered aloud. Did you feed little femmes the same thing you fed little mechs? He prodded Elita's stomach thoughtfully--maybe she came with an instruction manual?

He dimly thought back to his conversation with Ratchet a few joors ago. Elita was acting purely on her spark, uninhibited by adult limitations and insecurities. The sparkling squirmed and turned over, rolling down the incline created by his massive weight and bumping into his chestplates. She squeaked in surprise, optics coming on with a flash of dazzling blue. Optimus almost jumped when she sat up abruptly, head turning this way and that as she struggled to make sense of her new environment.

"Hello, Lita," he rumbled softly, and she squeaked out a greeting, patting his cheekplates. "You're in my quarters, silly, no need to look so confused. You live here now, remember?"

She poked his noseplates and released a delighted giggle when he crossed his optics. Small hands pawed at his helm, mapping out the strange contours and various appendages. He gently eased her curious fingers away when they got too far up his antennae; those were sensitive no matter who touched them.

"What am I going to do with you?" he sighed softly, tickling her abdomen lightly. Her giggles increased and she pulled at his wandering digits, optics brightening with glee. "Don't misunderstand, you're adorable like this, but you are my sparkmate, you know. And I love you as such. Passionately, Lita, so much it hurts. I can't show you that when you're like this. I can't talk to you and seek you out for comfort."

Elita cocked her head up at him, chirping. He smiled sadly, gently kissing her foreplate.

"Of course you don't understand," he murmured. "Look at you. Look how small you are. You're so fragile."

She finally managed to push his fingers away and snuggled up against his chest, purring softly as his spark slipped into cadence with hers. Optimus rested a hand on her back, caressing her soothingly. Recharge time, the late night and early morning, was the only time his mature femme ever allowed him any measure of affection. She would wrap her arms around his neck and allow him to hold her close. He'd kiss her freely, touch her, whisper to her. He cherished the few breems they had alone together in the dim twilight between days. It was during those times that she would press her mouthplates to his and murmur that she loved him, inevitably and eternally. It was during those few moments between the night and day that they were sparkmates, lost in a world consisting solely of their sparks. There was no war, no pain. There were no lost comrades. Just them. In love and whole.

His thoughts were interrupted by yet another squeak, and he looked down to see Lita gazing back up at him. She was scowling at him a little, impatient.

"Don't tell me you want to be fed already," he groaned, and she released a demanding chirp. "Alright, alright…let's go to Ratchet, he'll know what to do…"

He climbed up off the recharge berth, forcing his whiny systems to snap into gear. Elita sat up on her rump, lifting tiny arms and blinking at him inquisitively. Up? Bending over, Optimus gently put his hands beneath her arms and lifted her carefully, holding her away from his frame. Her feet dangled beneath her, and she chewed on one finger for a moment before kicking out at his chestplates. Stupid mech didn't even know how to hold a sparkling?

"Oops--sorry," Optimus apologized quickly, pulling her into his chest and placing one hand beneath her feminine aft. "You see, being Elita and all, I can't imagine you being so delicate that I'd have to--no, never mind. Sparkling. Sparkling…"

He exited his quarters smoothly, and only then did it occur to him that the rest of the base had no idea of what had happened to Lita. Wasn't it going to look odd for him to be carrying around a sparkling femme in his arms all day?

"Oh Primus, it's true!"

Optimus spun around on his heel to see the twins bolting towards him, skidding to a stop right before they collided with his massive form.

"She really is a sparkling!" Sideswipe gasped, and Sunstreaker's optics widened in horror. No! The biggest babe on the Autobot base was now…a _baby_. You couldn't do anything with that!

"Alright you two, settle down," Optimus ordered urgently, leaning down to his subordinates. Lita peeked out from behind his encompassing hands, blinking at the strange new mechs. They were cute, but loud. "No one else is to know of this, understand? It will fix itself in time, but--"

"What do you mean, no one else can know?" Sunstreaker interrupted, wrinkling his noseplates. Lita squeaked at him indignantly. No interrupting the big mech! "The whole base knows, Boss. It was on the announcements this morning."

Optimus stared at him for a moment, mouth agape. "You…you're kidding."

"Nope. Jetfire announced it," Sideswipe confirmed. Optimus shuttered his optics tightly and made a silent vow to viciously murder his best friend.

"Right," Prime sighed after a moment, straightening to his full, impressive height. "I suppose that's that, then. No need to worry about anyone seeing you, Lita…let's go to Ratchet…"

Lita squeaked and wriggled around so that she was facing forward, with one large mech hand on her aft and tummy. Sticking one fist into her mouth, she turned her head this way and that as they descended the stairs. Mechs and femmes alike stopped to gape at the commander-turned-infant, leaving Optimus feeling quite embarrassed and Elita absolutely delighted with all the attention she was getting.

"Attention whore," Optimus muttered, redirecting her tiny grabbing arm when she attempted to seize a passing mech. "And good luck smacking me for that, you can't even understand what I'm saying…"

Elita's only response was to duck her baby head and begin gnawing on his fingers.

* * *

"Good morning, Elita," Ratchet said brightly, plucking the sparkling femme from Optimus's arms and plopping her down on his examination table. "How are you this morning?"

Elita squeaked and picked up a nearby wrench, then squawked when Optimus hurriedly took it away.

"No, Lita, no touching Ratch's things, you could hurt yourself--that means you can't touch the powersaw either! Ratchet, why the frag do you have these things sitting around when you knew a sparkling was coming?!"

Ratchet stared at him for a moment before grinning widely. "I didn't know a sparkling was coming, Optimus," he replied innocently. "After all, it's not like you were expecting."

"Dammit, quit fragging around!" Optimus snapped, then yelped when he dropped the wrench into a delighted Elita's lap. "No! Don't grab that! Bad femme, very bad femme!"

"You practically gave it to her. If you keep sending her mixed messages, she's going to bite you."

"Stop lecturing and just examine her or whatever you need to do," Optimus growled, waving the wrench threateningly in his medic's direction. Ratchet coolly snatched it back, subspaced it, and leant over to observe the little femme closely.

"Well, other than the obvious problem, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong, so no changes there," Ratchet mused, lifting her chin to peer closely into her optics. "She seems very alert, in any case. And she's being such a good femme, she's not even crying today. Has she been fed yet?"

"Erm…" Optimus shifted his weight to his other foot, embarrassed. "I wasn't sure what to give her."

Ratchet looked over his shoulder at the sheepish commander, scowling. "What's wrong with you? You helped take care of Bumblebee, didn't you?"

"Well, sure, but…he's a mech."

"Does Elita drink different energon than you do?"

"No…"

"Well, there you go. As a sparkling, it's the same mix as Bumblebee got. At this stage, a half cube of low grade three or four times a day should do it. We'll adjust the amount based on her growth rate."

"How fast is she going to grow?" Optimus asked nervously, offering his comforting fingers to Elita when Ratchet started up with his medical probes.

"Say _ahhh_, Elita…Trion is sending me her projected growth rates later today," Ratchet answered, tapping Elita's noseplates with one stern finger when she closed her mouth on his medical probe. "Now, now, naughty little sparkling, don't do that…"

She simply giggled, smiling up at him with his tool hanging out of her mouth. Ratchet straightened, planting his hands on his hips and glaring sternly down at her.

"Lita, give it back," Optimus ordered. Elita blinked at him and released a tiny puff of air from her intakes. Oh, well…if the big mech said so. Turning her head back to Ratchet, she leaned over and spat the tool onto the floor.

"Oh, for the love of…how am I supposed to run a sanitary station here if you're going to be spitting my instruments all over the place?" Ratchet fumed, bending over to retrieve his probe. Elita giggled and knocked one baby heel against his helm as he leaned over, and he jumped up immediately with a yelp of pain.

"Good sparkling," Optimus muttered, tickling her abdominal plating.

"Primus, and I thought she was a handful as an adult," Ratchet growled, fishing through an open cabinet for another probe. "Her denta seem fine, in any case," he added somewhat scathingly, looking at the deep dents in his abused instrument. "I'm going to remove her audio coverings and make sure nothing was disturbed when she fell yesterday."

"Fell?"

"How else would you describe going from full-sized to mini-me in a matter of astroseconds?" Ratchet demanded. "She was sitting when you saw her, she may have hit her head and then sat up. Now, this could be somewhat uncomfortable, so would you mind holding her?"

Optimus nodded, seating himself on the exam table and opening his arms to his miniature sparkmate. "Lita? Come?"

She gave a squeal of delight, scrambling to crawl into his lap. Once seated, she began to purr, stroking his blue and red accented metal and nuzzling her head against his chassis. Optimus smiled serenely, patting her helm and delighting in her responding squeak.

"…Awfully different as a little bot, isn't she," Ratchet muttered, watching the rare display of affection from the femme with curious optics. "Her programming was inhibiting her emotional displays more than I'd realized."

"She is a soldier," Optimus sighed, still happily caressing the little femme's helm. She was settled comfortably back against his lower abdomen, optics shuttered and low purrs rolling from her vocalizer. She cocked her head slightly so his thick digits rubbed her audios.

"You're a soldier as well, and that doesn't stop you from engaging in vociferous--what do the younglings call it?--PDA in the hallways."

"Can't help it," Optimus grunted, pulling his femme closer. She squealed happily at the contact, patting his large hand with her baby ones. "Are you going to examine her?"

"Oh--yes," Ratchet said hastily, leaning down and placing one hand on Elita's helm. "Elita? I'm going to remove the caps to your audios. It'll be a little strange, but please stay still, alright? I'm not going to hurt you."

Lita's only response was to gurgle cheerfully and pat his noseplates. Ratchet rolled his optics. "Optimus, hold her still." Optimus obligingly tightened his grip on his precious femme, one large finger gently stroking her abdominal plating. It always soothed her when she was tense, and the same seemed to apply to her sparkling form. The little femme went completely lax in a matter of astroseconds, slumping against his hands and blinking her optics to keep them open.

Ratchet leaned in and carefully lifted the cover from her left audio, watching the femme closely. She squirmed a little, and her optics came fully online, but she didn't make a sound. Exhaling slowly, Ratchet inserted his probe into the open audio cavity.

Elita released a startled squeal, beginning to wriggle and trying to pull away from the intrusion. Optimus hushed her gently, stroking her helm and cheekplates helplessly when she began to cry, trying to snuggle closer to his comforting form.

"It's alright, Lita," he murmured gently, reaching out to her spark with his, sending her soft, comforting pulses. "It's okay, sweetspark, I'm right here…"

"_I'm right here."_

_Elita looked over at him, her optics unfocused. She reached out blindly, and he took her small hand in both of his, leaning over to press his foreplates to hers._

"_I'm here," he whispered, reaching across her mangled form to clutch her other hand. "I'm right here, sweetspark, don't be afraid…"_

"…_M'not scared…" she mumbled weakly, her speech slurred and her vocalizer laced with static. "What…happened…?"_

"_There was a bomb," he said softly, lifting a hand from hers to caress her cheekplate gently. "We must have missed it on our initial scan of the stronghold, but it detonated…I'm so sorry, Elita, I couldn't protect you…"_

"_It's not…your job…to protect me," she replied, struggling to force strength into her voice._

"_Of course it is," he murmured, anguish filling his spark. "You're my intended, I'm supposed to keep you __**safe**__…"_

"_It's not," she replied firmly, then released a gasp of pain, shuttering her optics tightly._

"_Lita?! Oh, Primus, hang on just a bit longer, love, Ratchet will be right over…he'll be right back, he's prepping the room for surgery…"_

_She only responded with a low moan, losing consciousness rapidly. Optimus bent over her, tenderly wrapping an arm around her badly injured frame and pulling her close. His optics scanned the table and floor in a panic. So much energon…so much energon, she was going to bleed out…_

"_I love you," he blurted desperately, his arms shaking as he pulled her more tightly into his embrace. "I love you. I love you."_

_One small hand lifted, trembling, to rest on his cheekplate. "Love you, too," she murmured into his audio, lowering her hand to place it over his spark, leaving a streak of energon across his face. "Don't worry…"_

_Optimus shuttered his optics tightly, rocking her gently, his spark screaming out in fear. He felt a hand close over his shoulder, and glanced back to see Ratchet standing behind him._

"_We need to get her in," the medic said softly. "We'll take good care of her, Optimus, there's no need to fear."_

_Prime nodded slowly, reluctantly loosening his grip on his intended and stepping back carefully. "You hold on," he repeated firmly, taking her face in her hands, gazing into her slightly glazed optics with bright, burning blue orbs. "Don't you dare let go. You come back to me, understand?"_

_She touched his large hand, smiling up at him gently, and he leant down to press a kiss to her mouthplates before releasing her and stepping away, allowing Ratchet to wheel her table into surgery…_

"There we go, there we go, nearly done…" Ratchet murmured, watching his results on the monitor as his probe accessed the sparkling's processor. Elita was clutching Optimus's encompassing hands tightly, crying softly and shaking slightly. He continued reaching out to her with his spark, desperately trying to soothe her fear.

"Got it," Ratchet said triumphantly, hurriedly pulling his probe out and replacing the audio cover. Elita immediately clamped her little hands over her audios, her lower lip trembling as she glared over at Ratchet.

"I don't think she likes you anymore, Ratch," Optimus laughed, lifting the little femme to his face level and nuzzling her noseplates with his. "You did wonderfully, Lita, thank you for being such a good girl."

She grunted irritably, placing both hands on his face and pushing, trying to get away from him.

"Seems she's a bit irked with you as well," Ratchet said smugly, smiling at the grumpy sparkling. "Now might be a good time to feed her, yes?"

"Oh, right. Of course. I'll bet you're hungry, aren't you," Optimus cooed, settling Elita into one arm and poking her stomach. She kicked out at his hand before rolling over, tucking her face into the shielding shadow of his chassis. "Thank you, Ratchet. Please let me know when Trion sends you his calculations."

The medic merely grunted, already preparing his medical bay for the onslaught of patients that was sure to come soon. Optimus excused himself quietly, setting off for the recreation room with sparkling in hand.

The journey to the rec room was just as eventful as their trip to the medical bay. Elita was quick to come out of hiding in favor of waving at passerby.

"Oh, wow!" Bumblebee exclaimed when they passed him in the hall. "She's so cute! She's so cute, sir! Wow, wow, are all sparklings that small?"

"You were," Optimus replied, smiling when Elita eagerly stretched her hands out to the yellow scout. "I think she wants a hug."

"Really?" Bumblebee's already large blue optics widened, and he opened his hands cautiously. Optimus carefully deposited his precious cargo into Bee's waiting arms. Elita immediately latched on, wrapping both tiny arms around Bumblebee's chassis and pressing her cheekplate into his chest.

"Aw, thank you," Bee gushed, using his hands to return her hug gently. "Wonder how she recognizes me?"

"Who knows," Optimus sighed, shrugging his massive shoulders. "Elita's known you since you were very small. She's a femme, so your spark must have imprinted on hers."

"Oh," Bumblebee said quietly, looking down at the little femme that was still lathering affection all over his chassis. "I didn't know she liked me that much."

Optimus placed a reassuring hand on the young mech's helm, smiling gently. "Elita cares for you very much," he said seriously. "She's told me many times that she wishes we could have raised you ourselves."

Bumblebee ducked his head, embarrassed by his commander's words. Elita looked up and squeaked, reaching up to wave one small hand at Bee's face, beaming up at him.

"She's so cute," Bumblebee repeated, a smile spreading across his faceplates as he looked down at her. "Are you taking her to the rec room?"

"Yes, she hasn't been fed yet," Optimus affirmed. "Would you care to join us?"

"Oh, could I? That would be great, I've never spent time with a sparkling before…"

They fell into step side by side, both cooing over the sparkling still attached firmly to Bee's chest.

The rec room was strangely noisy for so early in the morning. Bee absently pulled Elita closer, shielding her from the throngs of huge mechs. The femme, however, was not cooperating, pushing on his chest and squeaking loudly.

"I think she wants to meet some new friends," Optimus noted, observing his sparkmate carefully. "Why don't you sit down on the couch with her? I'll go get her some energon…"

Bumblebee trooped obediently over to the couch with every intention of settling the little femme down, but as soon as Optimus was out of sight her struggles increased. She bleeped desperately, tiny blue optics scanning the room frantically.

"Oh, it's okay, Elita, he'll be right back," Bumblebee said hurriedly, sitting down and stroking her back soothingly. "He just went to get you some energon, he'll be back in just an astrosecond…oh no, please don't cry," he gasped, panic striking him when her optics began to well with tears. "Please don't cry, don't--"

The entire room seemed to jump when a wail burst from her vocalizers. Bumblebee clapped his hands over his audios with a startled yelp. Primus, he hadn't known that sparklings were capable of hitting pitches like that!

Elita continued her wailing cries, sparkling fists rubbing at her optics. Murmurs had broken out in the crowd, a few mechs and femmes crowding closer to the couch.

"Aw, geez, the kid's crying?"

A horrified and helpless Bumblebee looked up and almost groaned. "Hey, Jetfire…"

The bulky air commander shouldered his way through the crowd to stand before the seated scout, arching an optic ridge as he looked down at the sobbing sparkling.

"Come on, Elita, that's enough," he said briskly, reaching down and promptly scooping the sparkling up. "Come on now, kiddo, there's no reason to fuss…"

"Jetfire, I don't think you should--"

"Don't worry, Bee, Lita's my buddy," Jet said dismissively, grinning at the femme dangling from his hands. "Right, squirt?"

Elita exploded into a full blown tantrum, kicking out at the mech and shrieking at entirely new levels. Jetfire jumped, startled by the sudden turn in her demeanor. A bit of sniffling and crying he could handle, he'd been through that with Bee and Hotshot, but _this_? Frag, the femme was like a mini-monster!

The sparkling stopped suddenly, a strange look coming over her face. Her kicking feet went lax, and she hiccupped softly.

"Aw, there we go," Jetfire sighed, relief spreading through him. "All better now, right?"

Elita hiccupped again, then promptly ejected her waste tanks.

"_Argh!_ Whoa, holy--"

Laughter came in peals from the crowd at the sight of the cocky air commander, his brilliant white frame covered in browning sparkling spew. Elita burst into tears once more, curling up into a tight ball and wrapping her arms around her midsection.

"What the frag is going on here?"

Jetfire and Bumblebee both looked up to see Optimus Prime shoving his way through the crowd. Upon seeing his crying sparkling, the commander hurriedly handed Bumblebee the energon cube and rushed forward, plucking the child from Jetfire's hands and cradling her close.

"Oh, Lita," he murmured, hoisting her up to his chest. Sniffling, she buried her face in the nook of his shoulder, tiny sparkling arms wrapping around his neck. "You poor baby, did you upset your systems? It's okay, sweetspark, there's nothing to be afraid of, you just got too riled up…you're okay now, you're okay…"

"…_Frag_," Jetfire muttered, staring down at his soiled shell in horror. "Ugh…this is _disgusting_…"

"Serves you right," Optimus growled, glaring at his best friend. "That's what you get for making that announcement after I told you to keep your stupid mouthplates shut."

"Everyone was going to find out anyway," Jetfire said, his voice taking on a slight whine. "Oh, man, this is going to take _forever_ to wash off…"

"Good," Optimus said flatly. "Hope you smell like slag for the next vorn."

"Probably will," Jetfire muttered, shoving through the snickering crowd, the shower stalls the only destination on his mind.

Optimus returned his attention to the sparkling, stroking her back gently. She lifted her head fractionally, peeking up at him, hiding her face again when he smiled down at her.

"Bumblebee, I think I'll take her to my quarters to feed her," the commander said quietly, turning to the scout. "Thank you for your help."

"Anytime, sir," Bee replied, handing Prime the energon cube. "Feel better, Lita…"

Nodding politely to the crowd, Optimus moved through the assembled bots and out of the rec room, heading back up to his personal quarters.

"There we go," he said softly, relieved as he reached the warm, quiet confines of his room. "Feeling better, Lita?"

Carefully shuffling her in his arms, Optimus slowly laid out across his berth, setting her down on his chest, both large hands supporting her. She stuck one thumb in her mouth, blinking down at him tiredly. Not even up for a joor and already set for a nap.

"How about we feed you after you recharge, hm?" Optimus suggested quietly, moving from his chest to settle her down on the soft covering of his berth. Rolling onto his side, he pulled the thermal blankets up to cover her snuggly. "You'll be feeling better after some rest, I promise."

She responded with a yawn, scooching closer to cuddle up against his warm chestplates, seeking out the soothing pulse of his spark. Optimus watched his sparkmate drift into recharge, releasing a deep sigh through his intakes.

"Thank Primus," he murmured, stroking her little helm delicately. "It can't possibly get any worse…"

* * *

**Hee :3 Oh, Optimus, you're forgetting who's writing this thing…**

**Please enjoy, please review, and many thanks to Phoenix13 for begging me to write this next chapter.**


	3. The Carpal Tunnel of Love

**It's a bit of a shorter update this time—I'm afraid I'm suffering from a small bout of writer's block, so rather than torture you all with a twenty-page chapter consisting of nonsensical literary **_**crap**_**, I worked out nine pages that are actually somewhat relevant.**

**Please enjoy, listen to some beats, and please review? :D**

**_The Carpal Tunnel of Love_ by Fall Out Boy.**

_-before Dawn-_

…Singing. Someone was…singing? They weren't singing very _well_, but waking up to it was certainly more soothing than waking up to the sound of, say, the alarm system, or Ratchet's shouting, or gunfire. In any case, it was soothing enough that it actually took Optimus Prime a few moments to panic.

Someone was in his room?

He sat up so fast that a shocked Elita One released a shriek, shooting like lightning to the opposite side of the berth and diving beneath the thermal blankets. Optimus sat it stunned silence for a moment, blinking, and only then did his processor manage to catch up with him.

With a groan, he flopped onto his back and shuttered his optics, the events of the past day or so coming back to him in a rush. The time stop program, Trion, Elita…Elita?

"Lita," he said, lifting his head. "I'm sorry for scaring you. Come out now?"

A pair of astoundingly blue optics peeped at him from beneath the covers, and the sparkling hesitantly crawled out, watching him warily. She picked up the toy she'd been playing with a moment ago-Ratchet's wrench, incidentally-and stuck into her mouth, blinking innocently at him. Was he done freaking out now?

"You look bigger," Optimus commented, rolling onto his side and patting the berth beside his head. Lita squeaked, crawling over and plopping down next to him. "Maybe the time-stop is already self-correcting, hm?"

Elita poked his noseplates and giggled before crawling down to his legs and picking up her wrench once more. Optimus watched her curiously. Without further ado, the femme promptly began banging her wrench on Optimus's armor and resumed her singing. It wasn't exactly comfortable, and it certainly didn't sound pleasant, but Optimus couldn't bring himself to bring a halt to her concert—the look of joy on her face, pure and uninhibited, was so endearing it nearly broke his spark. He couldn't recall seeing her so happy in a long time.

Gently, so as not to hurt her, he wrapped his large hands around her miniature frame, lifting her carefully and setting her on his chestplates. She placed both hands on his chest to stable herself, blinking down at him curiously. He observed her in silence for a moment before lifting one finger and pressing it to her chestplates, reaching out over their new-forged sparkbond as he did so. Elita squealed happily, patting his hand and nuzzling her face against the rough ridge of his finger.

"Does it really make you so happy when I reach out to you?" he inquired softly, sending her a soft pulse of love and receiving a delighted squeak in return. "You never show it. You _never_ show it. But right now you're just acting on your spark—so is this really you? Or are you the 'Ice Queen' that I've bonded to?"

She chewed on his finger and kicked her feet, azure optics glowing down at him. A faint smile crossed his face, and he tickled her abdomen, engaging her in play for a few more breems while his own troubled thoughts ran rampant.

He recalled, vividly, the first time they'd made love together. The way they'd touched, tenderly, though cautiously, unsure of their feelings for the other bot wound so intimately against them. But their defenses and their feelings had softened with the shared kisses, with the quiet whispers, with each lingering touch.

"I have feelings for you," he'd told her softly. "I wouldn't do this with just anyone."

It had been strained, their relationship—difficult. Yes, they cared for one another—yes, they were in love—but that wasn't always enough. It took effort and time, and the latter was something they just didn't have, no matter how hard they wanted to try. There was a war to fight, after all, and regardless of their feelings, the war took precedence over everything.

Optimus looked down at the sparkling exploring his chestplating. Primus, it didn't matter. None of it. Scooping her tiny frame into his hands, he sat up and cradled her against him, nuzzling his noseplates to hers. He loved her. That was all that mattered. That was all.

"Come on, you," he said affectionately, swinging his immensely long legs off the side of the berth and hefting himself to his feet. "Why don't we give you a little wash down, hm? I know it's inappropriate for a femme to be in the mech's washracks, but it's probably good for you to be around your friends. Besides, you're just a little thing, I'm sure no one will mind…"

He chattered to her aimlessly as they made their way down to the wash area, tactfully ignoring the stares the duo received from passerby.

"You see, you're so cute, no one can keep their optics off of you," he chuckled, brushing his mask against the top of her helm. She puffed herself up importantly, waving cheerfully at a mech who did a double take as he strode past. He waved back awkwardly.

Voices could be heard drifting from the wash racks, and Optimus peered around the door, squinting through the steam to see an entire ganglion of mechs lounging about. Jetfire was faintly visible at the center, spraying himself down and growling at anyone who attempted to take the high-powered hose.

"You're such an idiot, Jetfire," Hotshot was laughing, leaning up against the wall and watching his superior officer with mirth dancing in his baby blue optics. "I mean, seriously? What kind of moron willingly picks up a crying sparkling?"

"Hey, shut up!" Jetfire snapped, spritzing down his snickering younger friend. "I was doing Optimus a favor by taking care of his sparkmate! I should get a medal! Aw, damn, this gunk is never gonna come off! This is my third wash!"

Optimus chuckled, smiling and patting the head of the little sparkling in his arms before straightening to his proud height and strolling casually into the wash racks. All fell virtually silent -with the exception of Jetfire, who remained blissfully oblivious to his leader's presence and continued complaining about his stained armor-all sets of optics trained on the impressive Autobot. Optimus grinned, clearing his throat loudly; Jetfire turned on the spot, dropping the hose in surprise as he caught sight of his friend.

"Optimus—uh, Commander, er—good morning, sir…"

"Don't be impolite, Jetfire, greet the lady, too," Smokescreen snickered, and a few guffaws sounded from the surrounding mechs when Jetfire grimaced.

"Morning, Elita," he said stiffly, eyeing the sparkling suspiciously. She stuck a finger in her mouth, kicked out one foot, then occupied herself with trying to snatch soap bubbles from the air.

"Alright, move it aside, fellas, lemme through," a rough voice sounded from the near back of the small group, and Optimus smiled when Ironhide shouldered his way to the front, planting himself in front of his colorful commander and squinting his good optic up at the tiny rose sparkling cradled close to his chassis. "That's really her," he murmured, disbelief apparent in his voice. The spitfire, aft-kicking, rule-beating, 'Ice Queen' Cybertronian empress gurgled and hiccupped in response.

Ironhide barked out a laugh, straightening up and pulling back his shoulders, squaring off to his impressive leader. "Well, that's that, then. When'll she be back ta normal, Prime?"

"No telling," Optimus said morosely, frowning down at his tiny mate. "Trion is sending her projected growth rates to Ratchet. Hopefully it shan't take long…"

"Sure hope not. Without Elita around, this base is gonna go straight ta the Pit," Ironhide commented. His prediction was met with a general murmur of agreement. "That aside, Prime, sure it's alright ta have a little femme in the mechs' wash racks?"

"She's among friends here," Optimus said with a shrug, smiling down at his little femme, who waved a hand up at him, chirping out a greeting. "I'm curious about how many of her memories she's retained. She recognizes me, she seemed familiar with Ratch and Trion, and she certainly remembered Jetfire—"

"Shut _up_—"

"_OPTIMUS. PRIME._"

The temperature in the racks dropped all at once—proverbially—and Optimus felt a chill run up his neural relays, clutching Elita close on instinct. Stupefied, as if following the orders of some imaginary entity, the gaggle of mechs parted straight down the middle to leave Optimus standing alone with a jabbering sparkling in his arms, standing directly across from a seething, dusky-blue femme standing in the doorway.

"Hi, Mia," Ironhide said weakly. Elita One's SIC raised one finger and pointed it threateningly at her mate, though her dark blue optics—alive with fury—didn't once leave the stricken mech commander.

"_You_," she growled, optics narrowing, and Optimus flinched. "_I am going to KILL. YOU._"

"May I ask why?" Optimus piped up, trying to retain some shred of his dignity. Clearly, Chromia would have none of it.

"Why? _Why?_ _I'll tell you why, _you chauvinistic, sputum-slurping, _Pit_-brained, arrogant, stupid, numb-nutted, half-witted—"

With each snarled insult the femme stepped closer, and the group of mechs stepped back, only Optimus rooted to the spot and shrinking a little more with each step Chromia took.

"She left this base—for _battle_—in _tears_, frustrated over issues with _you_, trying to deal with a suffering sparkbond while fighting off only Primus-knows how many Decepticons—then comes back as a Pit-slagging _sparkling_, for Primus's sake, and you have the _nerve—_the _gall_—to parade her around like she's a prize you won, dragging her off to Ratchet every few breems and taking her into the damned _mechs' wash racks_—"

So saying, Chromia proceeded to pluck a very surprised Elita out of her mate's numb grasp, turned on her heel, and fairly stomped from the wash racks, grumbling and snarling the entire way.

Optimus stood frozen in the middle of the wash, bright blue gaze turning from his empty arms to the femme's retreating back, down to his arms, at the femme once more, and back again. Jetfire released a low, appreciative whistle before returning to his vociferous scrubbing. The remaining mechs broke into awkward mumbles, retreating quickly; Ironhide grinned and folded his arms over his chest, brimming with pride.

"She's something, yeah?" he proclaimed, lifting his chin importantly. "That's my Mia for ya."

* * *

"Holy Primus," Chromia moaned, leaning her back against the wall and sliding her armored aft to the floor, staring in horror at the sparkling struggling in her arms. "Holy fragging _Primus_. Lita, what's happened to you?"

"It was a malfunction of Lita's special program, as I understand it," Prowl commented from nearby, joining the fierce femme warrior with quiet strides, seating himself beside her in the deserted hallway. Elita was whimpering, trying to fight her way out of Chromia's embrace, sapphire optics trained determinedly on the doorway that she knew led to Optimus down the hall.

"That thing that can stop time? Are you serious?" Chromia scowled, drawing her tiny commander closer. Elita's efforts only doubled. "Didn't Trion give that to her? That piece of slag, I'm going to blow him halfway to Centauri and back…"

"The program mutated. This is not Trion's fault," Prowl said simply, peering closely at the sparkling. "Jazz is delighted. He loves little ones."

"I know—couldn't keep him away when Bee was little," Chromia grunted, handing Elita off to a very surprised tactician. "Here, you take her. She won't settle down with me."

"I do not think she equates you with being calm," Prowl chuckled, smiling when the little femme stopped her squirming to examine her new keeper. "Hello, Elita. Remember me?"

She blinked thrice and patted his red chevron, releasing a soft, warbling chirp of inquiry. Then, lifting one tiny hand, she made an odd flapping motion in the general direction of the wash racks.

"Oh, he'll be along shortly—give him time to clean up and nurse his wounded pride," Prowl said lightly, placing the femme in his lap. His gaze darkened as he watched her, taking in the full implications of her compromised condition. "This is very, very bad. If Megatron gets wind of the fact that Elita One is now a defenseless sparkling…"

"She's not defenseless," Chromia said fiercely, optics blazing. "She's got me."

"She's got _us_," Optimus Prime's regal voice corrected, large feet carrying his newly washed frame to his companions. He leant down and scooped his sparkmate out of Prowl's hands and into his own with one swift movement, pressing a soft kiss to Elita's helm as she squealed and made herself comfortable in his hefty arms once more. "I apologize for bringing her into the racks, Chromia—I know it was unwise, but I thought it might do her some good to see familiar faces."

"Could have brought her straight to me, is all I'm saying," Chromia grunted, climbing to her feet and reaching out to stroke Elita's helm. "So this is definitely her, then."

"Definitely."

"Just Elita, then. Minus all of her damned programming as a soldier and a commander—Elita just as she is."

"Just as she is," Optimus agreed softly, smiling serenely as his sparkmate traced vague patterns on the condensed fluid still present on the armor of his chest. "Chromia. You knew we'd been having trouble?"

"Yeah," the femme SIC sighed. Prowl made a small noise of surprise—Cybertron's royal couple didn't look anything but absolutely joyous together in public. He hadn't seen any indication that they were having relationship troubles. "She said you two fought a lot."

"I'm going to try to use this to my—to _our_ advantage," Optimus said firmly, indicating the fragile being in his arms. "I'm going to try to understand her better, without all of the stress and duties in the way. What I have now is just Elita, completely uninhibited—I'm going to learn her, and use what I've learned to work out things between us."

"Good," Chromia agreed, nodding. "Do that, Optimus—take the initiative, before I get so fragged off I blow off your stupid interface."

"Chromia," Prowl warned, and she gave him a smirk, patting his cheekplate.

"Don't worry, Prowl, I'm fair—I can happily take yours off too."

"Not what I meant, and you know it, femme."

"Do I?" she asked innocently, and with a last pat to Elita's small head departed down the hallway, sticking her head into the wash racks and whistling to her sparkmate along the way, who happily followed after her like a giddy technopuppy.

"It's femmes like her that make me almost wish I'd bonded to another mech," Optimus sighed, shifting Elita into the crook of one arm. "Prowl, how are things with you and Jazz?"

"Fine." Prowl blinked owlishly, frowning. "Well, no, they're better than fine. Everything is wonderful. I am very happy. Jazz has been a good mate to me…more than good. Superb, really." The Autobot paused, considering his next words carefully before cautiously asking, "And things between you and Elita, if I may, sir?"

The Autobot commander dipped his head, optics dimming, a soft whoosh of warm air sounding from his intakes. "You always were too quick for your own good, Prowl. Well. Not that Chromia hadn't already made our rocky situation that much more obvious…"

"I apologize if my inquiry was too personal, sir," Prowl said quickly. "I know it's not my place to ask, I just wanted to ensure that you and Elita were well."

"I am not offended, Prowl, don't worry," Optimus said gently, placing his free hand on Prowl's shoulder. Elita chirped softly, patting Optimus's chest, confused by the abrupt sadness she felt in the big mech's spark. The Prime turned his gaze down to her, watching her quietly for a few moments before heaving another hefty sigh.

"Elita is very willful," he said slowly, frowning. "Very stubborn, very determined to retain her independence. We have not quite mastered the concept that sparkmates must work as a unit, not as separate entities. I suspect it will just take practice."

"It can be difficult," Prowl acknowledged, nodding wisely. "I…for the longest time, I had a great deal of difficulty opening up to Jazz emotionally. It is in my nature, I suppose…all the same, it took me a considerable amount of time to learn to let him in. Forgive me for being so forward, sir, but I had…rather thought that perhaps Elita was encountering similar difficulties."

The Prime was silent for a time, watching his baby sparkmate quietly, and Prowl detected a brief tremble in the proud frame before the bold commander spoke again.

"She won't tell me she loves me."

Prowl blinked, surprised, optic ridges creasing with concern. "Sir?"

"I'm serious. We were fine at first, we were so…" Optimus's intakes hitched softly, his upper body curling around the tiny sparkling clutched to his chest, bluer than blue optics gazing down at her with nothing but adoration, but there was a terrible sadness in his voice. "We were so happy. So happy. I was, at least. But lately…especially just before the last battle…she's been pushing me away. She won't let me in. I don't know what to do anymore."

He took a few steps back, shuffling his large feet in reverse to drop his entire weight against the wall, leaning against it while he gently caressed his tiny bonded's head. "I wish I knew what it was that you need, Lita," he murmured tenderly, bringing his faceplates close to hers. "Just tell me what you want, and I'll do anything to keep you happy, you know I will. I'd do anything for you, do you know that? Anything, you need only say the word. So why are you so upset?"

Elita chirped softly, one tiny hand lifting to touch Optimus's faceplates. He shuttered his optics at the contact, spark aching at the sweet memories it jarred.

"…Sir?" Prowl said hesitantly, stepping closer to his leader. "Sir, if my input is acceptable…perhaps Elita is unsure of herself? I mean, is it possible that she does not feel that she deserves you?"

Optimus lifted his head, overlapping faceplates arranged into a frown. "What? That's preposterous. I tell her over and over how lucky I am to have her—why would she feel that she's not good enough?"

"Clearly, you and the rest of our troops view her as an incredibly capable and altogether wonderful femme—an amazing Cybertronian," Prowl said gently. "But femmes are different from us, or so I've heard. Regardless of how you or the Autobots feel about her, she may still feel inadequate. Chromia told me once, just in passing, that every femme, no matter how old, still shelters the nervous, self-conscious youngling they once were."

Optimus stared in amazement at his SIC, and after a moment of contemplation a weak smile spread over his handsome faceplates. "Prowl, did you bond yourself to another mech because any further knowledge of the feminine race would shatter your processor?"

"It was a risk I was certainly not willing to take," Prowl replied promptly, relieved to see his commander brightening considerably. "Sir, I have no doubt that things will work themselves out between you and Elita. As I have learned with Jazz, love lights the way."

"Very well said." Optimus turned his bright gaze back to his sparkmate, who was twittering eagerly at the rush of new emotions flooding their bond. "Please be patient, love," he murmured, brushing one large finger down her cheekplates. "I'll make you understand how wonderful you are yet." Lifting his head, he said gratefully, "Prowl, thank you for your wisdom. It's lightened my spark considerably."

"Such is my duty as your second, sir," Prowl said swiftly. "That being said, er, not that it's payment of any form, but…Jazz had been so hoping to watch Elita while she's still a sparkling…"

Optimus laughed openly, pushing himself off the wall and clapping his SIC on the shoulder as he strode past. "Not that it's any kind of thank-you, but I'm sure something can be arranged."

* * *

As it turned out, Jazz would just have to wait, because that evening in the rec room, every fearsome Autobot warrior who had ever tasted Elita One's wrath was reduced to messy puddle of cooing, smitten mech.

"She's so cute!" Hound practically gushed, bright blue optics following the little femme as she curiously explored his bulky armor. "She's so damn cute, Ah've nevah seen somethin' so cute!"

"She is," Mirage, his ever-watchful sparkmate, agreed, but he was eyeing the little femme off with a bit of jealousy. It was sometimes difficult to keep the tracker's attention on anything for more than a few breems at a time, but the tiny Elita had him completely captivated.

"Do you have any idea what this is going to do to Elita's standings on the 'Most Desirable Femme List?'" Jetfire wondered aloud (sitting and watching the sparkling from a safe distance, as he'd only just recently gotten the last of the spew off of his armor). "Now that she's a complete babe as an adult and freakishly adorable as a sparkling, none of the other femmes stand a chance—_ouch_," he added, grimacing when Optimus Prime's very large foot made contact with the back of his head. "Just saying it like it is, Boss."

"You'll be 'saying it like it is' all the way to the brig if you keep it up."

"But she _is_ a babe!"

"She's my _sparkmate_!"

"They say the most attractive ones are the unobtainable—"

"_They_ also may have mentioned, once or twice, that the _least_ attractive mechs are the ones without _interfaces_. Hint, _hint_."

"Oh. Message received," Jetfire said, wincing and delivering a thumbs-up over his shoulder. Optimus rolled his optics, giving his best friend's helm an appreciative pat before turning his cobalt gaze back to his bondmate, who was currently entertaining herself with making lunges at Bumblebee's doorwings.

Prime's gaze softened, his head canting gently to one side, a small smile playing around his mouth as he watched his joyous sparkling at play. It was incredible how little he'd actually known about the nature of her spark. He'd only ever thought of Elita as tempestuous, fiery, strong, determined with a kind streak to rival that of a cleric's—but here before him sat a sparkling bubbling with laughter, endlessly entertained and with limitless amounts of attention and love. The thought of there being another side to Elita, one that he'd yet to see, set Optimus's spark to pounding with excitement. She was, without a doubt, the most fascinating femme he'd ever met…

"So it's true…"

The low murmur at Prime's audio startled him, and he turned his head sharply to find himself noseplates to shoulder with the immense form otherwise known as Ultra Magnus, now standing still and stupefied with his ages-old friend, Elita One.

"Uh, yeah, Elita's always been on the shorter side, but this is ridiculous," Rodimus Prime's light voice agreed, and Optimus turned again to find his co-commander hovering incredulously on his other side. "She could fit in the palm of my hand, Opt! The _palm_ of my fragging _hand_."

"Well, take into account that you do have pretty large hands. And that's why you don't always get rave reviews with the femmes, Roddy, because unfortunately in your case, hand size isn't always indicative of proportionate largeness in _other_ places, if you know what I mean," Springer chuckled, stepping past his infuriated friend to sidle up to the gaggle of mechs surrounding Elita.

"I'm gonna kill him," Rodimus fumed, crossing his arms over his flame-emblazoned chest. "I'm going to kill him _dead_."

"Kill Springer on your own time," Magnus said flatly, then his dropped his voice and leaned in to his commander. "Optimus, what in Primus's name is going _on_?"

Optimus explained, once more, in detail, the science behind Elita's predicament, and by the end of said explanation had two more very baffled mechs on his hands.

"It _rewound time_?"

"Uh, yeah, just out of curiosity, _how_ long has Elita had this incredible powerful ability just kinda, you know, laying around?"

"Is that _even possible_?"

"Because, you know, that sort of seems like it would have been _important_ for me to know—"

"When will she change _back_?"

"And doesn't it seem like maybe at some point in time that would have been, I dunno, _useful_ to the whole Autobot cause or whatever?"

"She can't be a sparkling forever!"

"I know I'm kind of out of the loop or whatever, but the point I'm driving at here is that it would be kind of nice to know about this sort of thing _before_ your incredibly gorgeous sparkmate goes about rewriting the time continuum, if you know what I'm saying…?"

"Enough, please, before the both of you fritz," Optimus sighed, pinching his noseplates and shuttering his optics. He could feel a processor ache just waiting to happen. "It's touch-and-go right now, nothing is certain. Roddy, just for the record, I will endeavor to inform you of factors that may cause happenstances such as this one in the future."

A now-grumpy Rodimus thanked him, and a still-stunned Ultra Magnus went quiet, leaving all three mechs watching Elita play in silence. Magnus chanced a glance sideways, making note of Optimus's slack stance, unnerved by the exhaustion haunting his optics.

"Optimus, you ought to rest," Magnus murmured, placing a heavy hand on his friend's shoulder. "This must be very difficult for you. You were stressed even before this fiasco…"

"I can't relax with her like this," Optimus replied quietly, rubbing his helm. "She's fragile. She's vulnerable. She gets so upset when I'm not with her, and I have to reach to her over our bond constantly…"

"Then permit us to recharge in your quarters tonight," Magnus urged, squeezing the Prime's shoulder. "Rodimus and I will take turns staying up with Elita when she wakes, and you can recharge. You need it, Optimus."

Optimus considered, continuing to absently rub his helm. "Perhaps," he conceded slowly, furrowing his brow. "If only for tonight…"

"We're happy to do it, Chief," Rodimus put in helpfully. "If you work too hard, your programming will start to mutate and you'll come down with a virus, and what good are you to Lita then?"

"True," Optimus agreed. "All right, then, if you really don't mind…and _just_ for tonight…"

"We'll start with tonight and see where we go from there," Magnus said gently, patting his friend's back. "Let's get you up to your quarters then, yes? Collect your sparkmate, we'll handle the crowd control."

Optimus stepped forward obligingly, bending down to gently lift Elita from her perch on Bumblebee's shoulders. She squealed in surprise, panicked, before settling down as she recognized the warm blue hands in which she was cradled. Optimus took her against his chest, his worries somewhat soothed by the waves of adoration radiating through their bond. On impulse, he swept her above his head and tossed her into the air, catching her on way down and tucking his giggling sparkling back into his embrace.

"To bed, I think," Prime declared, patting Bumblebee's head when the little scout whined in disappointment. "Anyone who is not working the night shift would do well to follow Lady Elita's example."

Chuckles echoed as the mechs dispersed, encouraged by the stoic Magnus and a growling Roddy, and Optimus found himself escorted by his two of his closest friends up to his own quarters.

"Long day, little one?" Magnus inquired, watching with softening optics as Elita yawned, rubbing her own optics with tiny fists. "She is quite…cute, Optimus. Very endearing."

"Definitely," Rodimus agreed whole-heartedly. "Does she need energon?"

"I fed her not long ago—ah, but we ought to bathe her, I've not done it yet, not properly, anyway, Chromia snatched her from the wash racks, and—"

"Optimus. Rest," Magnus said flatly, plucking the dozy sparkling from his Prime's arms and pointing one strict finger towards the berth room. Much to Optimus's surprise, Elita hardly stirred when she was separated from her bonded, instead curling up contentedly against Magnus's chest. Magnus, however, didn't miss a beat. "Rodimus and I will attend to Elita. You go recharge."

"I…yes. Yes, of course I will." Shaking off the odd sinking feeling in his spark, Optimus stroked Elita's tiny helm before regarding his friends. "Thank you for this, both of you. I'll retire now."

Rodimus waited until the huge mech had disappeared and the door closed behind him before speaking. "Magnus. What the Pit. Optimus said she gets upset when they're separated, but she didn't even wake up when you took her. What's up with that?"

Ultra Magnus was quiet for a time, regarding the slumbering femme in his arms, her sleeping face calling forth all manner of memories in his usually well-kept processor. He shuttered his optics briefly, and then he lied.

"I don't know, Rodimus. I don't know."

* * *

**I have a thing for love triangles. Have you noticed? Because I do. **

…**.Not that I'm foreshadowing or anything.**


	4. Bad Romance

**Chapter Four**

_Plenoptic_

**Here we go :D**

_**Bad Romance**_** by Lady Gaga. (I'm sorry about that. I couldn't help it, though.)**

* * *

Optimus Prime sighed softly, processor whirring to life but hardly ready to wake. His preliminary sensors awoke sleepily, reaching out into the physical world and feeding information back into his processor. There was little sound in his quarters, save for a faint chirping sound somewhere nearby and the sound of intakes near his audios. His hands twitched, feeling out his surroundings, and his spark calmed at the feel of a lithe body pressed close to him. One hand grasped at the waist of his sleeping mate, strong chin lowering to pull her head more snuggly into the space beneath his jaw.

"…Uhm. Optimus?"

Odd. Her voice sounded different. Was she ill? Was her vocalizer glitching?

"I love you too, big guy, but, erm, wouldn't you rather cuddle with Elita?"

"But I am cuddling with you," Optimus mumbled, gently thumbing her backplating. Subtly, sensually, he dropped his hand, softly caressing her aft—

Which had definitely _not_ been that angular the last time he touched it.

And he couldn't be cuddling with Elita, because Elita was currently a sparkling.

Standing in the parlor, bouncing a tiny Elita One in his arms, Ultra Magnus's relative peace was shattered by a roar from the adjoining room. Jumping badly and clutching the sparkling closer on instinct, the City Commander whirled around just in time to see the door to Prime's berthroom be pulled open violently, one massive blue foot ejecting Rodimus Prime from the room firmly.

"What were you doing in my berth?" Optimus demanded, stomping out after his hapless protégé.

"I was tired, and you've only got one berth, Boss!" Rodimus explained quickly, rubbing his aft. Optimus had both caressed and kicked it in approximately ten astroseconds, and Rodimus couldn't honestly decide which had been more uncomfortable. "We must have rolled into each other!"

"You were…you were _cuddling_ with me!"

"I didn't mean to! And for the record, you were cuddling with _me_, too!"

"I thought you were Elita!"

Rodimus stopped mid-argument, appropriately stunned, and then barked out a laugh. "Are you _serious_? I'm not even sure how to respond to that."

"Mute it," Optimus groaned miserably, burying his face in one hand with a low growl. "Just forget it ever happened."

"You touched my aft, Boss. You should have at least bought me dinner first."

"I told you to mute it!"

"Good morning, Optimus," Magnus interjected smoothly, plopping the sparkling into the mech's arms. "Elita has been inquiring after you—erm, well, she seemed to be."

"I see," Optimus replied, his humiliation melting away when Elita squeaked up at him, waving her hands in his face. "Hello, dearspark. I missed you."

"Opmus!"

"Yes, yes, I—_excuse me?_"

"Opmus!" Elita repeated cheerfully, poking one tiny finger at his chin. When he didn't respond, staring down at her in bewilderment, she scowled and smacked her fist against his royal noseplates. He flinched backwards, startled by the pain, and clasped her firmly against his chest.

"_Ouch!_ Elita, no, no hit—naughty sparkling," he scolded. "No hitting…"

_The sound of metal on metal sounded through the air like a whipcrack, and their quarters fell into absolute silence. His head snapped to the side with the force of the blow, and he stilled, shuttering his optics against the pain in both his cheekplates and his spark. _

_Elita stood still for a moment, trembling, before lowering her hand back to her side. She felt tears in her optics, and realized abruptly that she wasn't going to be able to keep from crying. She'd hit him. She'd __**never**__ hit him before. _

_She'd hit her sparkmate._

_Optimus turned his head at last, optics opening again, and her spark broke at his expression, so full of pain and confusion. With a broken sob, she stepped forward, cradling his bruised cheekplates in one hand, her whole frame shaking when a trickle of energon ran from beneath the broken plating and dribbled down his jaw, dripping off his chin. _

_Her hands tightened into fists on his abdomen, and she dropped her head forward against his chest and cried. She didn't apologize; she didn't say she loved him. She just cried… _

Elita wriggled a little uncomfortably under Optimus's lingering gaze, upset by the sudden turmoil in his spark. Grunting, she reached up for him again, and he hoisted her a little higher. Before he could speak, however, she planted her tiny hands on the side of his face and leaned in, placing one innocent kiss against his noseplates. Then, chirping, she pawed at his jaw until he turned his head, and she kissed his cheek as well.

Before he could even think to be touched, she pursed her tiny lip components against his faceplate and blew a loud raspberry.

"Elita!" he yelped in surprise, unable to refrain from laughing when she giggled in delight. "You silly femme, what was that for?" He held her out so he could see her properly, smiling at her. He pulled her close, lovingly pressing his mouthplates to her helm. "Are you apologizing for that other time?" he asked in a whisper, reaching to her over their infant bond. "Not now. Wait until you're back to normal."

"She spoke," Magnus said, evidently still in shock. "She said your name, didn't she?"

"Is that okay?" Rodimus asked worriedly, looking from one mech to the other and back again. "I mean, she hasn't technically even _met_ Optimus yet—is it really okay that she already knows his name?"

"I don't think you need to be concerned about the time continuum, Roddy," Optimus replied smoothly. "Unless you wind up in my berth again, in which case I will have to knock you into last orn."

"Cute," Rodimus said flatly, trotting after his elders as they traipsed into the kitchen area. "Do you have high grade? I'm running so low it's not even funny."

"Too early," Magnus retorted, opening up the energon container and tossing the pouting sub-commander a cube of low-grade while Optimus settled Elita into a raised chair, cooing to the sparkling to sit still for him. She whined and struggled, reaching up to him with a soft cry when he made to move away.

"I'm just getting your energon," he sighed, exasperated, but pulled her into his arms once more.

"You're spoiling her," Rodimus scolded, but Magnus shook his head.

"She was away from you all night. She must have missed you," the City Commander said gently.

"I suppose," Optimus sighed, exhaling softly and rocking the little femme. Upset with him now, she was unsettled, wriggling impatiently in his arms while she tried to get comfortable. "Thank you, both of you. I needed the rest more than I thought. You must be weary…"

"She was hardly any trouble," Rodimus replied lightly, taking it upon himself to warm Elita's energon. "She cried a little when you left, but she was fine after that."

Magnus glanced sideways at his junior, frowning. Elita had settled down immediately when she was given to Magnus. Why would Roddy lie…?

"Then I wonder if you could watch her a moment more?" Optimus requested, holding her out to Rodimus with a sheepish smile. "I have to, erm, visit the waste receptacle. It's that time of the decacycle, you know…"

"Ugh. Say no more," Rodimus said, plucking up the sparkling, who immediately burst into tears and began kicking, struggling to get back to Optimus. "Here, Magnus, you take her."

Guilt gnawing at his spark, Magnus did so, flinching inwardly when Elita calmed as soon as his hands touched her. If Optimus noticed, he didn't say a word, departing quickly to take care of his business.

"You don't have to protect me," Magnus intoned quietly once he was sure Optimus was out of audio range, sinking into a chair and gently spooning energon into Elita's mouth. She slurped it down greedily, grabbing his hand every time it came close.

"I know," Rodimus replied. "I'm doing it for Optimus, not for you."

Magnus smiled sadly, shaking his head. "It's not as bad as you think."

"I don't care," Rodimus said curtly. "I don't know why she cares about you so much that she's willing to be away from Optimus, but I do know that she's calmer with you than she is with her sparkmate, which means her _spark_ feels the same way. That's not right, Magnus, and you know it."

"I never slept with her, if that's what you're implying," Magnus said, his voice coming out as a soft rumble. He sounded irritated. "I never even kissed her. It's not what you think."

"But you never told Optimus, so _it_ obviously isn't good," Rodimus shot back. The mechs were glaring daggers at one another, allowing their gazes to relax only when Elita decided to eject all over the table, having pushed the spoon too far down her tiny throat while Magnus was preoccupied.

"Oh, Elita, I'm sorry," he sighed, groaning when she burst into hysterics. "I should have been paying attention, sweetspark, I'm sorry."

"Don't call her that," Rodimus said shortly, plucking Elita out of the City Commander's hands and carrying her toward the washrack. "And clean that up, will you? Optimus really likes his furniture."

Optimus returned a few breems later (feeling considerably better) to see Magnus scrubbing the table and Rodimus bouncing a very shiny Elita, making odd sounds with his vocalizer to amuse her.

"Seems she's recognized you," Optimus commented, grinning and scooping his beloved femme close when she reached for him. "Thank you, dearspark, you missed me so much even though I was only gone for a few breems? I appreciate it, I missed you too, yes I did…Magnus, what are you doing?" he added with a laugh.

"She coughed up some energon, that's all," Magnus replied evenly, all hint of his earlier anger gone from his voice. "Rodimus already washed her up."

"Amazing that it takes three mechs to do one femme's job, eh?" Rodimus laughed, shaking his head. "How do they do it?"

"It's a mystery," Optimus agreed, setting Elita on the counter and allowing her to hold his finger while he prepared his own energon. He scarcely gotten down half the cube when his comlink went off, a message on the corner of his vision alerting him that Ratchet wanted his attention.

"Good morning, Ratchet," he answered, allowing Elita to chew on his hand to keep her quiet so he could hear. "The medbay? Now? Has Trion got the results in?...Alright, yes, of course. We'll be along shortly. Prime out.

"Trion has her projected growth rates," Optimus said as he switched his comlink off once more, answering the confusion on his comrades' faces. "He's in the medical bay with Ratchet now."

"You want us to watch Elita?" Rodimus offered, but Optimus smiled and shook his head, patting his young friend's shoulder.

"No, thank you. You've done more than enough. There's no reason I can't bring her along. Both of you go and rest, I'll alert Prowl that you'll be starting your shifts later today."

Rodimus' mood lightened considerably, and he left shortly afterwards. Magnus lingered for a moment, watching as Optimus collected his sparkling, cooing down at her and nuzzling his faceplates to hers.

"Magnus?" he questioned, glancing sideways when he caught his friend's still form in his peripheral vision. "Did you need something?"

"No, sir," Magnus responded, shaking his head. "I was just lost in thought. Forgive me…" he trailed off, his head lowering, optics locking on the floor. "Forgive me…"

Optimus laughed, patting Magnus's shoulder as he walked by. "What's to forgive? Come, I'm off. You should be getting back to your quarters."

"Of course," Magnus agreed, following his commander from the apartment, eaten alive by his guilt and unable to say a word.

* * *

"Hello there, Lita! My, you've gotten bigger, haven't you?" Alpha Trion greeted the sparkling cheerfully, plucking her up out of Optimus's arms and plopping her down on Ratchet's medical table. Optimus sank down beside her, smiling when she scrambled back into his lap. Ratchet scanned her from a distance, having seen what happened to Jetfire and unwilling to be Elita's next victim (also, he still hadn't gotten back the wrench she stole).

"She spoke my name this morning," Optimus informed his mentor, beaming down at his little sparkling while she pulled on his forearm armor, squeaking.

"Opmus!"

"Well, sort of."

"That's good," Trion replied, leaning down to carefully shine a light into her optics, observing her reaction. "She's progressing quickly, more quickly than I'd expected. My rates may be a little off, but that's all for the better."

"When can I expect her to be back to herself?"

"Several orns at least. A decacycle at most. Give or take an orn, given that it took me longer to calculate the rates than I had first expected…"

Optimus's face fell. A decacycle was a long time to take care of a defenseless sparkling, protect her from Decepticon incursions, and manage his other executive duties…he'd have to seek help.

"Are there others who you can trust to watch her?" Trion questioned, reading the worry in his protégé's optics with ease.

"Oh, yes, of course," Optimus said quickly, shaking his head as if to rid it of such negativity. "She still cries when we're apart, however. I suppose she'll just have to adjust…"

"A bit enlightening, isn't it?" Alpha Trion commented, his voice betraying just a hint of smugness. "She's so attached she can't bear to be apart from you for more than an astrosecond."

"That's as much our doing as it is yours," Optimus replied wryly, arching an optic ridge. Trion chuckled, patting the young mech's head fondly before leaving to converse with Ratchet nearby. Optimus played with Elita absently, tickling her belly and gently poking her noseplates when she looked down.

"But you didn't cry with Magnus," he recalled suddenly, placing a strong hand to her back to steady her when she swayed uncertainly. Irritated,

_she batted his hand away. "I can walk fine on my own, Prime."_

_Optimus frowned through the heavy rain, wincing at the sharp acidic sting. Elita One had been grabbed by one of the larger Decepticons, and the cruel claws had nearly torn apart her hip apparatus, ripping open sensitive wiring and essential hydraulic cables. She walked with an obvious limp, weighed down by her injuries and field equipment. _

"_Chromia's transmission came from around here," she panted, blue optics focused straight ahead and sharply determined. "She can't be far…"_

"_Allow me to carry you, milady," Optimus rumbled, reaching out to place a hand again to her lower back when her leg quivered as it was set upon the ground. "You're injured."_

"_I'll hold up," she snapped._

"_When you lose consciousness from loss of energon, I'll have to carry you anyway," he quipped shortly, but nearly apologized, so fierce was her glare._

"_You're a bit of a chauvinist, you know," she growled, adjusting her rifle on her back and soldiering onward. "Keep up, Prime."_

_He remained motionless for a moment, watching her trudge forward, bravely ignoring the lashing of the acid rain and the obvious pain of her injured hip and the immense weight of her weapons and gear. Optimus couldn't help but fall prey to a wave of admiration for a femme much stronger than he._

_So strong, and yet…_

_Elita yelped when strong arms abruptly closed around her shoulders, and she was pulled back into an impossibly warm body. _

"_Prime—you—what are you…?"_

"_Trion did not bring us together so we could walk alone," Optimus intoned, so softly she could barely hear him over the sound of the rain, but she felt his arms tighten around her. "My beloved Elita…why can I not carry you?" _

"_I don't need to be carried."_

"_But I want to. Is that so hard for you to accept?"_

"_I don't want to be carried by someone who's weaker than I am," Elita blurted, frustrated. She could feel the shock in him, a sort of ripple through his body, and she shrugged his arms off, narrowing her optics against the rain and trudging onward. She stopped only to glance over her shoulder at him, and then, only for a moment. _

"_I want to find Chromia."_

"…_Of course," Optimus replied bitterly, and followed her with a heavy spark._

"What is she going to remember of all of this?" Optimus inquired, bouncing the squealing little femme in his lap to occupy her while Ratchet ran his scans. "Trion?"

"No way of telling, not until the time-stop catches her up a bit more," Trion replied, rejoining the group. "She should be reaching her next stage of development within the next two orns or so. Have patience, young one. I'm sure she won't want to remember, actually," he added with a chuckle, "if I know Elita One at all." He quieted for a moment, observing the distress in Optimus's optics. "What's wrong now, lad?"

Optimus hesitated, suddenly youngling-like in his anxiety, glancing up at Ratchet. The medic placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"You can talk to me too, Prime. I'm your medic, after all."

The Autobot commander relaxed once more, looking down at Elita, holding her closer. She rubbed her faceplates against his abdomen, purring quietly.

"We're having problems," Optimus said softly, hardly surprised at how much strength it took to admit to it. "It's been getting worse and worse with every orn, it seems. I've been recharging on the couch. We used to get energon together, every morning and every night. We arranged our schedules so we were always home at the same time. But lately…" Optimus grimaced, curling in closer to his sparkmate, the being he held so very dear. "Lately she won't even tell me she loves me…"

Trion and Ratchet exchanged a look, silent understanding passing between them. Though he hid it well, though he was every bit the strong commander his men followed and adored, Optimus had always had to smother a very emotionally needy side of himself. Megatron had slain Sentinel Prime when Optimus was young, leaving the youngling to care for his mother until she, too, slipped away. Having lost his creators and his beloved brother at so tender an age, Optimus had been neglected the stability and love a youngling his age so desperately needed, and the Prime had never quite recovered.

Both Ratchet and Alpha Trion had hoped that Optimus's relationship with Elita would help remedy the problem, but evidently, it was doing little more than bringing those bad memories to the front of his processor.

"Every bonded pair has trouble, Optimus, especially in the beginning," Ratchet said gently, leaning forward to place a hand on Optimus's forearm. "Ironhide and Chromia destroyed three apartments before they settled down enough to live with one another civilly. Primus, they're _still_ not civil with each other. It doesn't how much you love your partner, nothing can prepare you for the reality of what a sparkbond entails. It takes time. It takes effort. And it takes _love_. Now look at your sparkmate, Optimus. You two may not have all of the technicalities worked out, but there's certainly plenty of love, even if she's too stubborn to say so when you're fighting."

Optimus was quiet, watching the chirping, softly singing sparkling in his arms. Between verses she paused to touch him, poking and prodding his abdomen, standing up on tiny, wobbly legs to pet his chest, grabbing his hands and nuzzling her face into his armor. The Prime reached to her over their bond, and was nearly disoriented by the wave of adoration he received in return. Elita turned her tiny head upward, the back of her head hitting his chassis with a _thunk_. She giggled, kicking her feet and beaming up at him, all but begging for his attention.

"You're right," Optimus said at last, looking up at Ratchet. "You're right, both of you. I'm getting distressed over nothing, aren't I? I apologize. I don't mean to be so juvenile."

"It's natural, Optimus, and very normal," Trion assured him, patting his back. "Forging a sparkbond means taking a risk—a leap of faith, so to speak."

"I understand." Optimus got to his feet, shifting Elita into one arm to grasp Ratchet's hand in a brisk handshake. "Thank you, both of you. If you're done with her, I'm off to beg for some help in looking after this little monster." Elita squeaked, poking his chest accusingly, and he smirked down at her. "Don't act cute, you are too a monster. You're just never awake for the muffler emissions you let off sometimes. They're very un-ladylike."

Elita huffed impatiently, settling back in the crook of his arm and kicking a leg out, bored with the medbay. After bidding Trion and Ratchet good-bye, Optimus departed for the recreation room, feeling considerably lighter.

One floor above, sitting silently in his dark quarters, however, Ultra Magnus only felt heavy.

* * *

**Filler chapter, blegh. I try not to write too many, but sometimes they just evolve that way. Please review :3**

**Elita didn't cheat on Optimus. Not technically. ...Technically.**


	5. My Saviour

**Chapter Five**

_Plenoptic_

**GAH. That is all. This story has been on hiatus for FOREVER. This is my attempt to get rolling again.**

**I got to the end of this chapter and realized that I needed to up the rating. WHOOT! Or not? Sorry to any of my younger readers. Skip the second flashback, and if you don't, I'm not responsible, and don't tell your parents I said that. Or that. Or that. Or that.**

**"My Saviour" by Dead By April.**

* * *

"_I can appreciate that you're scared."_

"_No, you can't."_

"_And I'm sorry you feel like you made a mistake."_

"_I don't!"_

_Ultra Magnus shuttered his optics, rubbing the space between them tiredly. The femme tucked into his berth curled up tighter beneath his blanket, scowling to herself._

"_Then why are you here, Lita?" Magnus asked at length, turning to look at the bulge under his thermal blanket from his perch on the side of the berth. He was exhausted, but frag if he was going to get into the berth while she was there. He'd rather die than lie in the same bed as his best friend's beloved sparkmate._

"_I just…needed some space."_

_Magnus rubbed the back of his helm, upset. "I don't pretend to know everything there is to know about sparkbonds, but…shouldn't you feel most free and most comfortable when you're with Optimus?"  
_

"_Shut up, Magnus," she said scathingly. "You don't know a thing about Optimus and me."_

_He sighed, dropping his face into his hands. "Where does he think you are?"_

"_I don't know. Around."_

"_You're bonded to him, for Primus's sake. At least tell him where you're going if you're not going to go home."_

"_I never had to when we were just dating."_

"_You're his bonded, Elita! I'm sorry, but even if you're not mature enough to handle it, you have a responsibility to him now!"_

_The femme didn't respond, and Magnus got to his feet, angry._

"_You're being selfish, not to mention childish. Come talk to me when you're ready to stop acting like a sparkling."_

"_Magnus—"_

_She threw aside the blanket, leaning over the side of the berth and catching his hand in hers, her voice shaking._

"_Magnus. I love him."_

_The sub-commander paused, gazing with longing optics at his door, beyond which this nightmare between his best friends didn't exist, before releasing a long, low sigh and turning back to look at the femme. Her helm was lowered, her optics trained on the ground, but her whole frame shook. _

"_I love him," she repeated quietly. "Optimus. I love him so much I could die. I hate being away from him. It tears me apart. It makes me want to cry. I love him so much I can't stop thinking about him when we're apart. I love him so much it makes me sob when he kisses me. When we make love I think my spark's going to explode. When we bonded I thought I was going to die on the spot."_

"…_Elita…then why…?"_

"_Do you know how scary that is?" she demanded, looking up at him with tearful optics. "Do you know how scary it is to need someone that much? Do you know how weak that makes me feel?"_

"_That's part of love, sweetspark," Magnus said gently, lowering himself to his knees and cupping her faceplates in his hands. "That vulnerability is just part of the process. It's natural. And for you, who has more pride than any other femme I've ever met…of course you're scared to just give yourself over to another."_

_Elita bit her lower lip, burying her face in her hands. Sighing quietly, Magnus pulled her into his arms, tucking her helm beneath his chin._

"_Optimus loves you," he assured her softly, rubbing her backplating soothingly. "He adores you. You mean the universe to him. Talk to him, tell him how you feel. He'll understand. You know you can place your trust in him—he'd never hurt you."_

"_He can't protect me," she said bitterly. "I love him, Magnus, I do, but he's weak. He lets me walk all over him. How can I feel safe with a mech who won't even ask me to make room for him in the berth, let alone in my spark?"_

_Magnus's optics dimmed, and he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Elita. I'm sorry. I wish I had the answers for you." He pulled her closer when she released a shaky sob, and his spark ached. "I wish I could help…"_

* * *

"Lita—come here, dearest, come here…"

Magnus was drawn abruptly from his reverie when the sparkling hanging from his fingers took a tentative step forward, wavering before determinedly planting another foot on the ground just ahead of the first.

"Opmus!" she squealed happily, releasing Magnus's fingers and waving her hands, only to promptly fall on her tiny aft. She blinked twice, bewildered, and tried to get up, failing with a huff.

"It's alright, darling, you can do it," Optimus cooed, edging closer and reaching for her. Magnus helped the sparkling back to her feet, smiling when she took three steps, hanging onto his fingers until the last moment before springing forward two steps and flailing wildly before Optimus caught her, laughing.

"Remind me again why we're teaching her to walk?" Magnus sighed, rolling his optics when Optimus cheerfully handed his sparkmate back to his best friend. "She's going to be of walking age within the next few orns at the most."

"Because I've always wanted to experience it, and it could be a while before Elita and I are settled enough to have our own sparklings," Optimus explained, grinning and opening his arms to his excited sparkling. "Do it again, Lita, I'm right here!" She hovered for a moment, hanging back on Magnus's hands. Optimus's optics warmed, and he extended his hands toward her. "Come on, sweetspark—I swear I'll catch you if you fall."

The sparkling squealed, threw Magnus's hands aside, and took five bounding steps forward, leaping into Optimus's lap and hoisting herself upright on his chestplates, chattering excitedly and reaching for his face. The Autobot commander burst into laughter, pulling her close and cradling her to his immense frame.

"Good job," he murmured tenderly, brushing his mouthplates over her helm. "Good job, Lita…"

Elita purred, curling up against his chest and tucking her head beneath his chin, pawing happily at the armor over his spark.

"It might be horrible of me, but I was immensely relieved at how attached she is," Optimus said quietly, shuttering his optics and resting his helm against that of his tiny sparkmate. His immense hands eclipsed her form almost completely.

"How do you mean?"

"She's been distant lately. Cold. To be honest, I was frightened that our relationship was going to dissolve in spite of our bond. But ever since this accident, she can't even stand to be away from me…"

"_I love him so much I can't stop thinking about him when we're apart."_

"…Idiot femme."

"Sorry?" Optimus lifted his head, looking at his friend in confusion. "Magnus?"

"No, nothing—sorry," Magnus chuckled, shaking his head. "She loves you, Optimus. Elita is a complex creature, and she might not always know how to express it, but she loves you very deeply. I'm sure she'd be very upset to know that you ever doubted it."

Optimus nodded briefly, rubbing a hand over Elita's back when she squirmed in his arms. "Yeah…"

* * *

_He couldn't remember a kiss ever feeling so good. Her body was exquisite, her every soft moan in his audio sent sweet fire burning through his circuits. They moved together in heated tandem, their love making slow and excruciatingly intense. She gripped him so tightly he wondered if her fingers would pierce through his armor, and found that he wouldn't particularly mind even if they did. _

"_Mmn…ah…Opt—Optimus—Optimus, I—" She drew a shaking breath, trying to speak around the heat of their passion, releasing an unsteady cry when he took her deeper. "I l-love you…"_

_He froze entirely, practically dropping her from his arms and back onto the berth, staring down at her in bewilderment. "You __**what**__?"_

_Elita blinked, startled by his amazement, and immediately felt her faceplates grow hot. "N-Nothing…"_

"_No, what did you—"_

"_I didn't say anything—"_

"_But—"_

"_Optimus, forget it—"_

"_No—"_

"_Can't we even frag without you—"_

_He shook his head, pulling her closer and pressing his mouthplates to hers, kissing her as firmly and as passionately as he could manage. "I was going to tell you," he panted, pulling his mouth from hers and moaning when she pulled him back to her. They kissed for what seemed to be an eternity, making love to one another's mouths before he could get another word in. "As soon as we were done, I was going to tell you…"_

"_Tell me what?" she asked breathlessly, tracing her glossa over his bottom lip. She'd never had a mech who tasted so good._

_He drew back, cupping her face in his hands, pressing their helms together. Caressing her cheek, softly thumbing her pretty faceplates, he lowered one hand to gently grip her thigh, and she shuddered when he entered her again, setting a slow pace between her legs. Her arms went around him, her hands linking behind his neck, hips rising and falling to meet his pace. She wondered absently when the simple act of love making had become so very important and so very meaningful. _

"_That I love you," he told her quietly, bringing his mouth to hers in a spark-wrenchingly tender kiss. She shuddered her optics, feeling the hardness of his body, the softness of his mouth, his heat blossoming inside of her, marking her as his. The thought of belonging to him sent thrills through her. _

"_I love you…"_

* * *

…**Or that. Or that. Or that. Or that.**

**Freakishly short chapter is freakishly short. Sorry…. I'll try to get this story back on track, this is just a quickie (HAH!) to let all of you know this story isn't quite abandoned, but I'm having trouble finding, you know, a plot. And stuff.**

**Reviiiiiiew. It will make me write mooooooore.**


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